Looking to HIM for Help

When we look to Him for help, we often have a high expectation of what kind of help He will give. Instead of trusting in His goodness and sovereignty it is easy to get sidetracked by our own expectations. As I begged God for help in our family’s situation, I sometimes found myself outlining the kind of help I expected.  Of course, my expectations were reasonable and good! So if God weren’t going to come through with the right kind of help, could I be blamed for seeking solutions elsewhere?

God told Jeremiah the prophet, “My people have committed two evils–they have forsaken me, the Spring of Living Water, and they have dug for themselves broken cisterns that can hold no water at all.” As a people Israel had turned from looking to God for help, and that was their first sin. The second, quickly followed; they created their own solution. They found their own way to solve their problems–which really was no solution at all.

I don’t want to fall prey to the deception of my own heart that suggests, I can build a better cistern. I don’t want to trust God for help, only when it’s the kind of help I expect. I want to trust Him and Him alone, like Habakkuk, like Jeremiah, like Jesus, because ultimately he is good and he has promised that the outcome will be good. My expectations are often far to simplistic and far to shortsighted!

Can you relate? Have you looked to HIM for help and then realized you were expecting a certain kind of help–a kind that might be good, and reasonable, but still a kind of your own making?  Can we truly look to HIM for help believing that He will give the right help at the right time?

Here is a poem expressing this desire of my heart.

How do I trust?
Do I trust in you alone,
Or in outcomes I demand?
Do I come before your throne,
With a tightly fisted hand?
Do I live out what I believe,
Or hold it only as a creed?
Do I my ambitions cleave,
Or do I satisfy my need,
From a cistern broken down,
From a well of bitter draught.
From water spilt upon the ground,
From  strength rising in the rot?

Let my own efforts die,
And trust in you rise from the grave.
Let my heart with heavy sigh,
Rest in you the way to pave.
Crooked places will abound,
Lonely, dark and empty hours.
Storms will rage and hopes be drowned,
Moments I can’t see your power.

But you make straight the crooked place,
You give radiant joy for shame,
You gather each tear from my face,
And with tender care, whisper my name.
You sing softly over me,
From the ashes, you make beauty rise.
I feel what I can’t see.
And lay every other dream aside.
Let me hope in you alone,
Finding nothing else to fill,
Let me bow before your throne,
And in your presence at last be still.

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